


Fuckin' Side Effects

by insipid_rhyme



Series: Gallavich One-Shots [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Im really not proud of this, M/M, Pretty gross, Sick!Ian, read with caution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 19:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insipid_rhyme/pseuds/insipid_rhyme
Summary: Ian takes his pills on an empty stomach.





	Fuckin' Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Really not happy with this. I've just recently started a Hospitality Course and I've been real busy. So, sorry for the unimpressive work I'm posting.

Ian woke up in the morning feeling like absolute shit- he was in a mood, and he was aware of it. He had slept through his alarm that reminded him to take his pills in the morning, and he grumbled as he grabbed the bottle of pills off the bedside table and took his required dose. He usually took them with food, because his stomach tended to play up when he had them on an empty stomach, but this morning he was feeling so shitty that he didn't give a fuck, just popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry.  
He felt Mickey shift behind him and Ian rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel the familiar feeling of being dazed washing over him. He felt so disconnected from the world.  
His hands began to shake and immediately his bladder begged to be relieved. He sighed as he forced himself out of bed and into the shabby bathroom connected to their room. Stupid pills and their stupid side effects.  
He looked up at the water stained ceiling of the bathroom as he pissed, then shook himself unthouroughly and pulled the lever on the toilet. It let out an agonized groan as it flushed, but Ian just ignored it. Their entire apartment was a piece of shit.  
He walked from the bedroom into the kitchen and immediately started brewing a pot of coffee, leaning against the counter and staring at his favorite rooster mug as he waited. His hands were still shaking.  
Mickey appeared in the kitchen, rubbing at his tired eyes and yawning. He glanced up at Ian and smiled. "Hey babe. Taking your pills?" he asked around a yawn. Ian didn't look up when he replied.  
"Already took 'em. Just making coffee." The coffee was ready and he grabbed the pot and poured himself a mug of the delicious black brew. Mickey grabbed himself a mug from the cupboard.  
"Without food?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.  
"Yeah. Didn't want to get out of bed."  
"Well, you're out now," Mickey stated, frowning. "You could have made food and taken your pills now."  
Ian took a long swig of his coffee, the liquid burning his tongue. "Whatever. Who cares."  
"Who cares-- well, obviously I do," Mickey said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  
"Just fucking drop it, okay Mick?" Ian asked, his voice softening. "I didn't feel well. I just wanted to take my pills then go back to sleep, but the side effects stopped me from even fucking thinking 'bout it."  
Mickey gave him a sympathetic look and stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing gently. "You okay? How you feel?"  
Ian shrugged, leaning forward on the counter. "Feel sick. Shaky. My tummy is making weird noises."  
As if on cue, his stomach made a weird whining noise, and Ian groaned under his breath. "Feel like there's a fucking brick in my pelvis."  
Mickey furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" he asked, confused. Ian sighed and tried to explain.  
"It just feels like there's a brick in my intestines and it's blocking off everything and it's making me feel fucking sick."  
Mickey made a face, trying not to show how disturbed he was by that. Ian saw his expression and scoffed.  
"Fuck you, it ain't my fault," he said in a low voice, then his eyes widened slightly. He held a hand to his stomach and pressed down. "Fucking ow," he muttered, then flinched. "I have to-- I have to poop."  
Then he left the kitchen in a hurry and Mickey blinked, then took a sip of his coffee. He couldn't imagine what Ian must feel like. Then he laughed and remembered a few weeks ago when he ate a gross ass burrito and almost shat his pants then puked all over Ian. Okay, maybe he knew how Ian felt a little.  
He heard Ian groan from the bathroom and winced in sympathy. This is why Ian should take his meds with food; take all those pills on an empty stomach and you're gonna have diarrhea real bad.  
It was a few minutes later that Mickey heard the toilet flush, accompanied by the miserable moan the stupid thing let out whenever someone flushed it. Except this time it sounded worse. He frowned and muted the TV then heard Ian curse loudly.  
"Ian?" Mickey called out. "You okay in there?"  
There was a loud thump then Ian shouted, "Yeah!" Then a moments silence before he added, "The toilet ain't flushing properly." Mickey groaned and shut his eyes. Great, another thing going wrong with this stupid apartment. "Is it clogged?" he asked. "Maybe," Ian replied. He sounded nervous. "You a'ight?" Mickey asked, getting up from the sofa. He went into the bedroom and found Ian sat outside the bathroom, leaning on the wall with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. "What's wrong?" Ian moaned quietly and looked up at Mickey with helpless eyes. "Need to shit," he groaned. "Didn't you just go?" Mickey wondered, stepping closer. Ian whined and nodded his head. "Yeah, but I need to go again," he said, his cheeks heating up. Mickey bit his lip awkwardly. He didn't know what to do. "And you can't use the toilet?" he asked. "No," Ian mumbled, glaring straight ahead. "Fucking clogged and almost overflowed when I flushed it." He sighed helplessly then fidgeted on the ground. "Feel sick." "This is 'cuz of your meds, right?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Ian nodded slowly, then frowned. "I think so," he said, rubbing his stomach. "Feel really sick." "I'll get you a bucket?" Mickey said, unsure. Ian nodded, so Mickey left the room and grabbed the bucket from the laundry. He walked back into the bedroom and set the bucket in front of Ian. Ian groaned at the sight of it and pulled it closer, then immediately started dry heaving. He had no food in his stomach so he was unable to vomit. His face was bright red from dry heaving and Mickey knelt down next to him and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "S'okay," Mickey said softly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and staring at his boyfriend sadly. He hated that this had to happen to Ian all because of his medication. Ian stopped dry wrenching for a moment and groaned, slouched over the bucket. "Mick?" he said breathlessly. "Yeah?" Mickey asked, frowning at the worried tone of Ian's voice. "Think I just pissed myself," he moaned, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I just pissed myself." "Ah, shit man," Mickey sighed, patting his back and looking helplessly around the room. "The shit we do for each other." Ian laughed and then groaned, prepared to puke in the bucket again. Mickey clapped him on the shoulder then stood up. "I'll get you a change of clothes." He walked to the drawer and ruffled around in it until he found a pair of boxers and ratty pajama bottoms. He turned to Ian awkwardly. "You okay now?" Ian groaned half heartedly and glanced up at him, his face flushed red. "Just feel bad. Tired." He shifted around and frowned down at his lap. "Wet." He placed the bucket down in front of him and leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily. Mickey dropped the clothes on the bed then left the room for a moment and entered the kitchen. He grabbed a tea-towel and wet it under the sink with warm water and rung it out until it was damp then went back to the bedroom. "Pants off," he said to Ian, who only groaned and shook his head. Mickey rolled his eyes and kneeled down in front of him. "Come the fuck on, pants off!" He tugged on Ian's sweat pants and Ian lifted himself up so Mickey could pull them down his thighs, then gingerly tugged down Ian's pissed soak boxers. He picked the clothes up between the tips of his fingers and shoved the bathroom door open and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. He then grabbed the wet tea-towel and kneeled in front of Ian again. "I'm gonna clean you up, 'kay?" he said and waited for Ian's tired nod before he wiped Ian's skin clean of his spilled bodily fluids. Ian blushed in humiliation the whole time. When he was done he threw the towel in with Ian's clothes then helped Ian up and over to the bed and sat him down on the mattress. He grabbed the boxers and pulled them up Ian's long legs then did the same with the pajama bottoms. "You feeling better now?" he asked Ian and sat down next to him on the bed, placing a hand on his thigh. Ian sighed but nodded his head. "Thanks," he mumbled to Mickey awkwardly, placing his hand over Mickey's on his thigh. "For doing that for me, you know." Mickey shrugged. "Ain't nothing you wouldn't do for me, man." "Still," Ian insisted, smiling at him. He squeezed his hand then brought it up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the pale skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos! My tumblr is insipidrhyme17 if you wanna send me prompts.


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